


Fun is Subjective

by angelsandbrowncoats



Series: Nygmobblepot Week 2018 [7]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Handcuffs, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Martin thinks love is gross but he still ships it, Matchmaking, Nygmobblepot Week 2018, Pining, canon compliant as of 4x15, trapped together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 17:59:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14086485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsandbrowncoats/pseuds/angelsandbrowncoats
Summary: Post 4x15, Edward talks his way into joining Oswald and Martin at the manor. From there, he expects it won't be long before Oswald brings up old feelings and Edward can finally confess to him. He was not prepared for Oswald's skill at ignoring uncomfortable situations.Martin thinks adults are silly and decides to do something about it, since his dads are, apparently, completely hopeless.





	Fun is Subjective

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, well, this was not quite what I planned for this day, but I couldn't bring myself to write them as mad at each other after such a heartwarming reunion. As usual, I do not have the skills to write smut, so there isn't an actual sex scene, but I do spend a little more time leading up to the 'fade to black' than I usually do. If that means anything to you.
> 
> Enjoy, and I hope you all enjoyed this event as much as I did!

Life at the manor was… different.

 

It was _different,_ the second time around.

 

One major difference was the presence of a child. Shortly after their departure from the docks, Edward had directed Oswald to the safehouse where Martin was being kept, curious to see how Oswald acted around the boy who clearly meant so much to him.

 

When Oswald – after a long hug and many declarations of worry and relief – turned the topic to where he could send Martin that would be safe, Edward was flabbergasted. Evidently, so was Martin, if the shocked and betrayed look on his face was anything to go by. He knew that look well, especially with regard to the Penguin.

 

“Oswald,” he stepped forward, intervening for the first time since they had arrived, “Perhaps there is another solution.”

 

“It’s for his own protection!”

 

“He can be safe here,” Edward insisted, “You’ll have plenty of security once you get your empire back, not to mention yourself being one of the most fearsome citizens of this city.”

 

“You flatter me,” Oswald smiled, but it was his painfully indulgent smile rather than a real one, “But Martin cannot be at my side every second of every day. I have business he is not ready to see, he must continue his studies, and sometimes I will simply not have the time.”

 

Edward nodded, and Oswald turned away, as if assuming Edward had conceded the argument and not just the point. Clearly Edward was still the smarter of the two.

 

“But I will,” he said to Oswald’s back, internally cheering as Oswald first froze, then spun on his heel, eyes wide.

 

“You’ll what?” he asked, suspicious, as if he didn’t understand Edward’s meaning.

 

“I’ll have the time. The last time I had a goal that didn’t involve trying to kill you, or trying to get over the fact that I’d killed you, I was working as your Chief of Staff. Since you are no longer mayor, I clearly no longer have that position. Nor do I have a job at the GCPD, as if I would _ever_ work with those pigs again. I’m in the market for a new goal, a new job, a new… _purpose_!”

 

“So, what, are you offering to be Martin’s nanny-slash-bodyguard?”

 

“No,” he rolled his eyes, “I was thinking more along the lines of tutor-slash-occasional-babysitter. With defending his life with my own being a given job requirement for babysitting, of course. I’d help him with his studies and watch him whenever you can’t. That way you don’t have to worry about Martin being taken by someone you don’t trust ever again. Right?”

 

He probably shouldn’t have turned it into a question at the last minute, but he still hadn’t quite wrapped his head around the part where Oswald _trusted_ him. _Him_. Of all people, he trusted the man who had tormented him and shot him.

 

Well, he supposed, it did mean that Oswald knew him at his worst. Knew what the worst he could do was. In that respect it made sense.

 

“And what do you want in return?” Oswald asked, eyes narrowed.

 

“I – I don’t really need a salary,” he said, realizing in that moment that his plan had hinged on something more than the other man might be willing to give him, “I just – I’d like a room. And food. Maybe a small budget for suits and science?”

 

“You want your old room back?” Oswald blinked, obviously taken aback.

 

“No! I mean,” he tripped over his words in his intensity and haste, “I mean, if you are amenable, I would appreciate staying with you – both of you – again. But, I just, if it’s not asking too much – could I have a different room?”

 

“Why?”

 

“I stayed there back when you were – when I thought you were dead. Too many bad hallucinations took place there.”

 

“Oh,” understanding washed over Oswald’s face, “Of course. There are plenty of rooms in the mansion. I’ll find you a new one immediately.”

 

“Maybe you could arrange it so Martin’s room is between ours?” he suggested, “That way any potential attackers would be vulnerable from at least one side.”

 

Oswald nodded, “That sounds… logical. Martin, what do you think?”

 

They looked to the boy, who held up his notepad.

 

_I think Ed should stay_

“Thank you,” Edward told him with a grin, “I’ll make sure to buy you some more ice cream to ensure your continued support!”

 

Oswald gave him a look, “Really, Ed? Bribing my child? I thought bribes were supposed to make you feel bad about yourself?”

 

“Oh, that doesn’t apply when you’re bribing from the heart,” he waved off the accusation with an even bigger grin.

 

“That makes absolutely no sense.”

 

“I guess I’m just that much smarter than you!”

 

~          ~          ~

 

Arranging Martin’s homeschooling was more fun than Edward had been expecting. The ability to shift the curriculum to the most useful and exciting subjects was _wonderful_. He gave Martin basic placement tests in all the important subjects, from math to murder, and set the coursework from there. First on the agenda was ASL, of course. Math-wise, Martin should work his way up to calculus before the year was out. Penmanship was vital, and Edward worked art techniques into his art history lessons, since Martin had so much practice with drawing already. There was the art of lying, which Oswald would teach – since Edward had far too many nervous habits to master it. Classical music appreciation was a must, as was the history of torture – including the pros and cons of newfangled devices versus the more primal old-school methods.

 

‘Tests’ were the best of all. Rather than some boring and unhelpful bubble sheet, Edward designed complex scenarios – sometimes theoretical, sometimes practical – that involved all the skills Martin had learned so far. Once he solved the scenario, they could move on. Best of all, Martin had a habit of solving his challenges in completely accurate ways that he hadn’t even thought of, thereby improving his system.

 

Oswald took most weekday evenings off, giving Edward plenty of time to exercise his need to creatively murder idiots. Sometimes, if Martin was tired and went to bed early, they’d even do it together. Edward was especially fond of those times, the only true time alone he got with Oswald since moving in with him.

 

Not that he minded the weekends, when he would join Oswald and Martin on adventures around the city, or even just the manor grounds. He held those moments very close to his heart, the closest thing to a family he could imagine himself having, wishing – but only in private – that Oswald would take the extra step and invite him into their family _officially_.

 

And that, _that_ was the downside.

 

Edward knew Oswald knew that he had endured torture to keep him safe. That he knew he had sacrificed his happiness for him.

 

And Oswald had sacrificed his revenge to save _him_ in return.

 

Had those not been declarations of love? He hadn’t believed it when Oswald had appeared on the dock, hadn’t believed he’d saved him _again_. But then he said he trusted him. He’d said it like _that_ , too, and Edward had assumed he meant, ‘I love you,’. Just like how Edward’s statement that he would be glad to escape the docks – _permanently_ – had been intended to mean that as well.

 

But it had been nearly three months since they’d moved back in together, and Oswald had yet to give even one indication that he still had any feelings of the romantic sort for him.

 

It was beginning to grate on his nerves.

 

Or, more accurately, it was beginning to worry him.

 

Had he read the situation wrong?

 

Was he back where he had been over a year ago, pining after his friend with love riddles and sacrifices with no hope of reciprocation? After everything, was it truly too late? Did he really get nothing?

 

It was enough to make him curl up in a bed that was too big for one person, clinging to a pillow as if it would ever be enough, as his chest heaved with dry sobs each night. He had spent his whole life feeling undeserving, but there had always been a part of him that _hoped_. It was that part that cried over what might have been, but only when the darkness was there to hide his shame from the world.

 

~          ~          ~

 

It was the morning that began with Martin staring at him that everything changed.

 

He had grown increasingly fond of the boy, but that did not mean it was anything other than disconcerting to be watched with such intensity while he ate his toast.

 

“Martin?” he finally asked when only crumbs remained on his plate.

 

‘I need your opinion on something,’ Martin signed, and Edward smiled at the speed with which he had picked up the language.

 

“Go for it.”

 

‘No, I need to show you,’ he insisted.

 

“Oh, of course,” he said, standing up and picking up his plate, “Just a moment, please.”

 

Once his dishes were rinsed and stacked neatly in the dishwasher, he returned to the breakfast parlor with a bright grin, “Lead the way!”

 

Martin grabbed his hand and began tugging him up the stairs, clearly excited by whatever he had to show.

 

Edward frowned when he realized they were stopping in front of Oswald’s room. As per usual, Oswald had slept in this Saturday morning, and Edward thought he could faintly hear the shower running in the master bath.

 

“Martin? What is this?”

 

‘A surprise.’

 

“For Oswald?”

 

Martin opened the door and gestured for Edward to go first before he signed, ‘Not just Oswald.’

 

“What do y - ?”

 

Before Edward could finish the question, Martin had slipped a pair of handcuffs around the wrist of the hand he’d been holding, clamping the other end down around a decorative loop in one of Oswald’s many lamps.

 

“What the heck?”

 

‘Sorry,’ Martin signed, ‘But the door doesn’t lock from the outside. I need to buy myself time to move the wardrobe without having to worry about you getting out. I’m sure you’ll be out of those in no time. I’ll be back in a few hours to let you out.’

 

“Martin? What do you mean? What wardrobe? What’s going on?”

 

But Martin just smiled and shut the door. Edward gaped at the solid wooden panels as his brain tried to process what was happening. Seconds later, he heard a scraping sound from the hallway that informed him Martin was dragging said wardrobe across the hall so that it blocked the very door he’d just closed.

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

Apparently Martin agreed that it was time for he and Oswald to put aside their pasts for real and just get together already.

 

He was trapped, in Oswald’s room, while the man himself took a shower just one room over.

 

What an odd place to find himself.

 

The water in the bathroom shut off, and Edward froze, wondering how he would explain himself to Oswald. His mind remembered the handcuffs and he panicked as he realized that even his own expertise might not have him out by the time Oswald emerged.

 

Sure enough, the door to the bathroom clicked open while he was still fiddling with them, and he turned like a deer in headlights to meet Oswald’s equally shocked stare.

 

“E – Ed?”

 

“Hi,” he said, immediately cursing himself.

 

“What – what are you doing?”

 

“I – I’m sorry, Oswald. It was Martin. He told me he had something to show me, then he got me in here and locked us in.”

 

“What? He,” Oswald frowned, “Locked us in? How?”

 

“Put a wardrobe in front of the door,” Edward nodded towards the door, relieved as he finally worked his wrist free.

 

Before he could say anything else, Oswald collapsed on the bed with a sigh, head in his hands, “This is all my fault.”

 

“What? How is this _your_ fault?”

 

“I – Martin asked me about us the other day. About why we didn’t kiss or share a room like his first parents had. I – I told him it isn’t like that, but he didn’t want to listen, and now he’s gone and done this…”

 

“Oh,” Edward said, unable to stop the disappointment from creeping into his voice and expressions.

 

_It isn’t like that._

 

Of course it wasn’t.

 

Why would it have been?

 

_How_ could it have –

 

“I’m terribly sorry about all this,” Oswald continued, not having heard him, “I know you don’t feel that way about me, and I’ve come to terms with that. I won’t pressure you to do anything, or – or punish you for not loving me back.”

 

Wait.

 

What.

 

“Sorry?” Edward asked, brow furrowed.

 

“No, don’t apologize, Ed, this is _my_ problem, and – “

 

“No, I meant, ‘sorry’ as in – what are you talking about?”

 

Oswald frowned at him, “I’m talking about how you’re the love of my life, but you don’t love me back, and that’s oka – “

 

“ _I don’t love you back?!_ ” Edward practically screamed in frustration, “Oswald, how many times do I have to sacrifice myself for you before you _finally fucking figure it out?!_ I’ve loved you since practically the moment we met! Well, it wasn’t really love back then, but I knew it could be. I _knew_ you would be important to me.”

 

“I – you – what?”

 

“I _love you_ , Oswald,” he said, smiling through the tears of frustration that had accumulated on his face, “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me that was okay, but you never did. I was about to give up hope…”

 

Oswald gasped as the realization finally set in, getting up from the bed to walk over to Edward, only stopping when they were toe to toe.

 

They stared at each other for a long moment before Edward couldn’t stand it anymore and whispered, “Kiss me. Please.”

 

Oswald gave a slow smile and said, “With pleasure,” before doing just that.

 

It was everything Edward had wanted and more, the perfect combination of fierce but tender, passionate but flawed, violent but loving.

 

When they finally broke apart, he let out an involuntary whimper which led to the return of Oswald’s predatory smile.

 

“How long until Martin lets us out, do you think?” he asked.

 

“He said a few hours,” Edward replied.

 

“Then I think we ought to lock the door ourselves, for good measure, and then – if you’re willing, of course, we could…” he trailed off with a meaningful look.

 

“You want to consummate our union?” Edward asked, about to cringe at the awkward wording when Oswald smiled fondly at him. Oswald liked him for him. Oswald _loved_ him for him. What a concept.

 

“That is exactly what I had in mind.”

 

“Sounds like a swell idea,” Edward nodded, “Really swell. Great, actually.”

 

He glanced down at the object in his hands and felt himself blush all over, “Um… while we’re on the subject of what is and what is not on the tabl – er – _bed_ … if you’re, if you’re comfortable with it, we could – we could use these,” he held up his hand so the handcuffs dangled from two fingers.

 

“I’ve been handcuffed enough for one lifetime,” Oswald shook his head, “All bad memories. I may trust you Ed, but I’m not going to do that. Not even for you.”

 

Edward flushed an even deeper shade of red as his voice – nearly inaudible from how high it was pitched – said, “I – I didn’t mean for you.”

 

The change on Oswald’s face was so vivid he could pinpoint the exact moment Oswald caught his meaning, as well as the exact moment Oswald discovered he liked the idea very much indeed.

  
“ _Well_ ,” he breathed out, “If you’re so very amenable… I guess it couldn’t hurt to try…”

 

Edward felt a shy grin growing on his face, realizing that this must be how it felt to be wanted, to have someone care what _he_ wanted as well.

 

Well, if he had any say in the matter, he’d be perfectly content to spend the rest of his life coming up with more creative ways to prove he was Oswald’s than something so commonplace as mere handcuffs.

 

And though Oswald was unaware of this sentiment, his own thoughts on the matter would have been extremely positive.

 

~          ~          ~

 

Two floors down and five rooms over, Martin was enjoying the surround sound in the mansion’s home theater as he watched some of his favorite action movies. He was just as averse to knowing even the slightest thing about what his fathers were doing at that moment as he had been to their thick-headed refusal to see that they were both deeply in love.

 

Love.

 

Ew.

 

Martin was glad he didn’t have to deal with that grossness.

 

No, he was perfectly content to enjoy his popcorn and purple lemonade while watching some skillful decapitation from the privacy of his own home.

 

There was no way what his dads were doing was anywhere near as fun.

 

And that was a fact.

**Author's Note:**

> Martin spent a long time assuming Ed and Oz were above all that nonsense, but after seeing how upset they were both getting, he realized they were just as ridiculous as all the other adults. He doesn't know exactly what they're doing, but he has an idea, and he's very disappointed in them both (aka, love is a weakness because it makes you mushy and gross and no siree, Martin would very much like to stick with murder and ice cream**, thank you very much).
> 
> **Fun fact: There is a statistical correlation between murder and ice cream sales. This is not, as psychologists and sociologists would have you believe, due to a third factor (heat), and is, in fact, based on skewed data. The members of the Cobblepot-Nygma household, who murder 10,000 goons per year and always go out for ice cream afterwards, are outliers and should not have been counted
> 
> As always, I'd love to hear from you in the comments!


End file.
